Take A Man's Cat
by Sarah1281
Summary: New Orlesian Warden-Commander Fayle Fahlgai felt perfectly justified assigning Anders a templar stalker and making him get rid of Pounce but he never expected his predecessor Angélique Amell to take issue with this and force him to apologize...


Take A Man's Cat

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Note: This is inspired by a discussion in the Anders thread on BSN.

Fayle Fahlgai had actually been born in Ferelden, loathe as he was to admit it. That had been back in the civilized days when the martyr Meghren was ruling over this barbaric land. Meghren had always been one of Fayle's personal heroes for his ability to put up with these people for so many years, if nothing else.

Fayle knew that he'd have to make a lot of sacrifices when he became a Warden but none were as horrific as this. Following the announcement that Warden-Commander Angélique Amell apparently had better things to do with her time, Fayle had been ignobly banished to Ferelden himself and sent to watch over the motley collection Amell had gathered.

There was a Dalish elf-mage who had supposedly died but left no body as well as a possessed corpse who had also…ceased to be unnaturally animated. What manner of blasphemy did these Ferelden barbarian get up to anyway? There was a drunken dwarf and a suicidal dwarf but those really weren't his problem. Nathaniel seemed a capable sort and always willing to take over the duties that he, as Warden-Commander, felt were far beneath him.

That just left Anders.

The man was an apostate mage who had escaped from the Circle _seven times_ as well as being suspected of murdering several templars. And he never went anywhere without women – and quite a few men – stopping to stare dreamily as he passed while completely ignoring the much more distinguished Fayle. He just bet it was something to do with that cat. What kind of a Warden had a pet anyway? It really took away from their reputation as badass darkspawn slayers.

He'd need to do something about that. Fortunately, he had an idea.

Ser Rylock, by all accounts a truly dedicated and pious templar, had been savagely crushed to death a few months ago but she had had an equally dedicated and pious younger brother, Ser Rolan. He had heard of his sister's demise and immediately offered himself up to keep an eye on Anders. Sure, law, the king's preference, and Warden policy might have dictated that templars had no control over mage Wardens but that just meant he had to get a little creative.

Rolan would join the order and Fayle would assign him to follow Anders everywhere he went. He was sure that nothing could possibly go wrong.

"What?" Anders yelped, looking like he couldn't believe his ears. "I…_what_?"

"Ser Rolan has just undergone the Joining and is your new Warden partner," Fayle repeated patiently. Honestly, Fereldens were so very stupid sometimes. Well, all the time, really, but some times were worse than others.

"Since when do Wardens have partners?" Anders demanded.

"Since Rolan survived his Joining," Fayle informed him pleasantly.

"Angélique promised that being a Warden meant that I wouldn't have to worry about the templars anymore!" Anders protested. "And _she_ never has to worry about templars!"

That was a good point and Fayle had really wanted to do something about that. For some reason, however, none of the templars he had talked to had wanted to go anywhere near the Hero of Ferelden so there was really nothing that could be done about her.

"I'm not here to keep an eye on you and kill you at the slightest provocation," Rolan said in a tone that even Fayle thought was unconvincing and he was busy pretending to believe this story.

"Warden-Commander," Anders said pleadingly.

"I'm sorry, Anders, but there's nothing I can do," Fayle said sadly. "The Wardens take all types, you know. Apostates, blood mages, maleficar, Dalish mages…"

"Is there any reason that your list of all the horrible kinds of people that the Wardens accept are all mages?" Anders asked suspiciously, crossing his arms.

"…No." Great, now _he_ was being unconvincing. "In fact, I was going to list every other kind of Warden I could think of if you hadn't interrupted me."

"I didn't interrupt you, you trailed off," Anders pointed out.

"It was still quite rude," Fayle sniffed.

"If I say I'm sorry, will you call your pet templar off?" Anders inquired.

"No," Fayle said bluntly.

"Then I'm not sorry," Anders told him.

"Doesn't that mean that you wouldn't really be sorry if he did agree and would just be saying so to get rid of me?" Rolan spoke up.

Anders narrowed his eyes. "See, _this_ is why I hate templars. Well, that and the rabid anti-mage sentiment, blatant abuses, stupid outfits, ability to neutralize magic-"

"I think we get the idea," Fayle cut him off.

"That was rude, too," Anders informed him.

"You started it," Fayle defended. "But anyway, like I was saying. The Wardens accept all kinds of people. As long as they can fight, they're in, basically. Rolan here can fight and he wants in. We can hardly start rejecting people just because they might make others uncomfortable. Should Angélique Amell have turned you down because your magic or your freakishly good looks made other people feel insecure?"

"My…freakishly good looks?" Anders repeated, frowning in confusion.

Fayle coughed. "Moving right along…we do not have so many eager volunteers so as to turn them down just because not everyone likes them. And this isn't a democracy anyway, it's a military order."

"But he's _clearly_ only here so he can go all templar on me!" Anders objected.

"I assure you that I have cherished a week-long desire to be a Warden," Rolan assured him.

"Was that when you found out Rylock was dead?" Anders asked flatly.

"Coincidence," Rolan claimed.

"Well now that that's settled-" Fayle started to say.

"So you're saying there's nothing I can do," Anders sounded defeated.

And he interrupted him again! Now he was winning.

"No, sorry. Unless you want to leave the Wardens and have the templars come after you again." If Fayle sounded a little abrupt it was just because he didn't know when he'd get the chance to restore the balance of power by interrupting Anders again. In fact, he'd probably need to interrupt him _twice_ now so he'd have one more interrupt under his belt.

"I suppose that that would be worse…" Ander said with a sigh.

"Would now be a good time to mention that you have to get rid of that cat of yours?" Fayle wondered aloud.

Anders started. "_What_?"

Fayle's eye twitched. Did no one ever listen? "You have to get rid of your pet. I know that it's better than having a filthy mutt but having a pet makes you…soft."

"Soft?" Rolan repeated.

"Yes, soft," Fayle said firmly, nodding. "We Wardens must be ready to be bloodthirsty killers at all times and I think that having a pet would really get in the way of that."

"Don't you have a bird?" Anders demanded.

"Fluffy is not a _pet_," Fayle insisted stiffly. "And she's on hand for in case I ever need to see if a mine has a dangerous gas build-up."

"But _why_ would you-" Anders began.

"Could happen," Fayle interrupted. Now they were tied.

"But Pounce can revive those that are knocked out!" Anders cried out.

"I don't care. It's more important that we don't look weak in front of the darkspawn," Fayle said stubbornly.

"They're darkspawn. They don't bloody care!" Anders claimed.

"This isn't up for debate," Fayle spat. "Now get rid of her today or else I'm going to be forced to consider that insubordination and then I'll be forced to wonder how much trouble from the templars keeping you is worth."

Anders stared at the floor. "I-I have a friend in Amaranthine-"

"Go."

There. He won.

But there went his dinner plans…

* * *

Fayle very rarely ever felt like he'd made a mistake and he certainly didn't feel that way now. A few weeks after Rolan had joined the Order, Anders had gone crazy, gotten himself possessed, engaged in a spot of cannibalism, and fled the country.

Fayle knew that he really should track him down but…well he really didn't want to see Anders again. How his eyes managed to shine like that, he'd never know…He'd done his duty in informing the other Warden-Commanders of what Anders had done and so as long as he wasn't in a place without an active order like Kirkwall then he was sure Anders would be found in no time at all. Maybe he should tell the templars, too?

Suddenly, his face was shoved down into the report he was reading.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"Isn't that my line?" Fayle asked weakly, rubbing his nose.

"No, it's my line," former Warden-Commander Angélique Amell corrected as she glared down at him. "In fact, I think I'm going to say it again. WHAT THE HELL?"

"Would you like to…specify?" Fayle asked delicately, hoping she wasn't about to attack him again. Where was a templar when you needed one? Oh, right. Either terrified of Amell or eaten by Anders.

"You had a templar stalk poor Anders!" Amell accused.

"No, I didn't-" Fayle tried to deny.

"I don't believe you," Amell said flatly as if that settled the issue.

"But Anders killed him!" Fayle reminded her.

"Only _after_ you had Rolan stalk him? Unless you think that he was possessed himself…" Amell mused.

"Correction: Anders _ate_ him. After he was possessed!"

"No one's perfect," Amell said with a shrug. "And Anders has always been very open about his dislike for templars."

Fayle couldn't believe she could be so blasé about the whole thing. "There's a difference between simply disliking them and eating them."

"And there's a difference between just seeing a templar on the street as you walk past the Chantry and having one follow you around everywhere and waiting for you to get possessed and attack them," Amell countered. "Clearly Anders felt bad that Rolan had to wait and so did him a favor and cut to the chase."

"You can't claim that Anders was _helping_ Rolan!" Fayle cried, appalled.

"Really?" Amell asked innocent. "Because I could have sworn that I just did."

Fayle heaved a heavy sigh. As much as he'd like to, he couldn't take on the Hero of Ferelden and his predecessor and expect to come out looking good. "Well, whatever wrongs may have been done, this was a long time ago and-"

"And that's exactly why an apology is in order," Amell interrupted him. Again. She was really dead-set on emasculating him, now wasn't she?

"A-a what?" Fayle sputtered.

"An apology," Amell repeated patiently. "Some people never listen…" She rudely shoved a blank piece of paper in his face. "Now. And I'm going to read it before you send it to him."

Fayle blinked as he accepted the paper. "Does this mean you know where Anders is?"

"Of course I do," Amell said as if this was a silly question. "He wrote me a lovely letter last week about his plans to start a mage revolution. He was a lot less of a social activist when we met but I'll tell you one thing: when Anders dreams, he dreams _big_. Oh, I do so hope he's gotten the chance to cast a fireball or two at a templar…"

"Anders is a dangerous apostate and he's even gotten himself possessed!" Fayle exclaimed. "You have to-"

"_I_ don't have to do anything," Amell cut him off. "_You_, on the other hand, have an apology to write."

With a heavy heart, Fayle set quill to paper. Amell peered over his shoulder as he worked.

_Dear Anders,_

_I am writing with regards to_

"No, you're doing it wrong," Amell told him. "You have to actually say that you're apologizing."

_the apology I apparently owe you_

"Apparently?" Amell demanded. "What do you _mean_ apparently? And make sure to include what you did to poor Ser Pounce-a-lot."

"Who?" Fayle asked blankly.

"Anders cat," Amell explained. "I heard that Anders was forced to leave him with _Namaya_ of all people. I retrieved him, of course, and sent him with Nathaniel to…wherever Anders is. Now get back to work!"

Fayle groaned. This was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

Anders looked up as Varric came into the clinic.

"Blondie, I know you said that a proper pet sits on your head but Ser Pounce-a-lot isn't _my_ pet," Varric reminded him yet again.

"It just means he likes you," Anders said cheerfully. Even in the midst of all that was happening, having Pounce back made everything seem a little brighter.

"I've got a letter for you," Varric announced. "It's from some acquaintance of that famous cousin of Hawke's."

"Oh, one of Angélique's friends?" Anders asked, intrigued. "I wonder what it could be…"

He opened the letter and glanced at the contents.

_Dear Anders, _

_I am writing with regards to the apology I apparently owe you. And by 'apparently' I mean definitely. And I'm not just saying this because Amell looks like she'll kill me if _(here the writing was smudged as if someone's face had been shoved down into the letter) _It was wrong of me to assign Rolan to follow you to the bathroom and share a room with you. It was also wrong of me to take away your stupid edible _(another smoosh) _adorable cat. _

_Fayle Fahlgai_

_Warden-Commander of Ferelden_

**And disgrace to the Order. Hi Anders! I miss you! –Angélique **

Anders shook his head and smiled. He loved it when an injustice was righted.

Review Please!


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